


Broken

by JustSomeSmutHere



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Allusions to Suicide, C137cest, I cried when i wrote this, I hurt my babies, I'm broken, M/M, sad af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 08:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeSmutHere/pseuds/JustSomeSmutHere
Summary: Sometimes things are damaged beyond repair. Sometimes people are too.Part 11 of my Rick/Morty series





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for what you guys are gonna feel after reading this. I'm so sorry. But it has to happen.

Morty stared at the clock on the stove, chin in his hand. He ground his teeth and clucked his tongue, switching positions to folding his arms and bouncing his leg.

This waiting was unbearable. He felt like like he was counting the hours, the minutes even.

Three and a half days. Three and a half days since Rick had left.

Rick claimed the reason he wouldn't bring him, the reason he downright refused to, was because in order to infiltrate the Koblarnian mafia he had to go undercover and Morty just couldn't speak the language proficiently enough. He couldn't seem to get his tongue around the clicks and snaps properly. It was funny though because before, Rick would have had no qualms with putting him in that kind of danger. Sure he cared about Morty but he was really more of a tool for him. But now more than ever Morty wanted to be there for Rick and help him as best he could; and he knew the real reason he was banned from going was because Rick couldn't bare to put him in harms way. This time it was too dangerous. As if.

Morty's mouth tasted sour. He wasn't a kid anymore. He could handle this. He could handle anything. If Rick was there, he was with him. That's how it had always been. And he thought that's how it would always be. Rick was of the opinion that it was for his own good to stay behind. But this waiting was difficult. He'd rather be in harm's way than guessing at what could be happening and worrying. He tried his best not to feel anxious. Rick could handle himself. But if he wasn't there, how could he be positive that he was ok? 

He didn't care at all for this part of their new dynamic, that was for sure.  
School did help a bit but it was still impossible. He found himself drifting off into space, thinking about Rick like some love-sick puppy.

That cute half-smirk he'd get when he was tired. The way his labcoat hung lankly but elegantly off his too-skinny frame. Everything he did was calculated and precise. Even in the way he moved; in everything he did. The immense and terrifying intelligence behind those cold, emotionless eyes. The way those eyes would penetrate Morty when he looked at him. His skillful hands. And again, that goddamn smirk. Morty shivered.

He really missed the sex. It was such a great outlet for the both of them. I mean sure he could get off. That wasn't the issue. It just wasn't the same. His hands were too smooth and clumsy in comparison to Rick's. And dildos, if he'd even dared to use one couldn't even come close to Rick's unfaltering rhythm and passion. Even if he tried to be rough with himself in just the right way he could never quite pleasure himself the way rick managed to. Imagining it was Rick's hands, Rick's touch helped but it just wasn't enough. He had a way about him. Some kind of spark, and Morty could never match it. Not in a million years.

The boy trudged up the stairs, practically dragging himself up every step. Jerry passed him on the way down, mentioning to him that hopefully Rick could cure that sickness he'd had for the last few days with some serum or whatever. It was obvious he had other things on his mind. Like his failing marriage and other selfish things. He was always selfish. Some father. What an imbecile.

Morty threw himself into his bed moodily and laid there for what felt like an eternity, staring at an interesting crack in the ceiling. Or one that he at least tried to imagine was interesting. He stared at the clock every few minutes and wished it would go faster. The seconds crawled by. It had been about an hour. What was an hour compared to three days?

Out of the blue he heard a crash that he was one-thousand percent sure came from the garage. Rick. He felt his heart jolt with excitement. It was no surprise to him that he was so thrilled. Rick had become his anchor whether he liked it or not. Who was he kidding? He loved it. Rick was what tethered him to reality. Something he could count on. It wasn't always like that before. But it was now. His smile was wide as he tore himself from his bed and ran downstairs in a flash, skipping every other step. He skidded on his socks over the smooth linoleum in the kitchen, crashing into a counter with wild abandon before sliding into the doorway to the garage, panting, elated.

“Rick!”

Rick's hair was more tousled than normal and he ran his hand through it staring critically at the gadget in his hands. He looked tired and he smelled like he hadn't showered in a few days but than tried to cover it up with some strange alien cologne. It wasn't a pleasant smell but it was so unforgivably Rick.

He glanced up and flashed him a genuine smile, a very wry, Rick-like smile, slightly triumphant. So Rick. His eyes brightened.  
“Hey, HEY, kiddo! Guess what I- AAH!”

Morty slammed into him knocking him down onto his back, the wind going out of him, and he was left breathless. Morty knew he was going overboard but he just couldn't help himself.  
Whatever Rick had been holding went clattering noisily to the floor of the garage. It sounded like it was made of metal. Hopefully it could be fixed.

Rick gasped as Morty tried to pepper his face with kisses and nuzzle at his five-o-clock shadow.

“Oww! M-Morty! Fuck! Would you- Ugh! God dammit! S-stop this shit! Get off me would ya?! Jesus Christ wh-what are you made of Velcro?!”  
Rick spluttered, blushing more and more heavily as he tried to pry Morty off of him with little success. He was glad to see him but this was a very unexpected greeting. It set his nerves a bit on edge for some reason.

Regardless of his protests Morty just emitted a humming, bubbling laugh, nuzzling his cheek warmly against the elder’s prickly one.

Rick flinched. Utterly unused to the feeling of being greeted this way. Hell, the feeling of anyone reacting towards him this way. Inwardly he rejected the notion someone would actually love him. It was an automatic and immediate response. It didn't last long. Try as me might to suppress it, warmth filled him to his fingertips until he thought he might burst. It was extraordinary that someone could act this way toward him. After all though, this was Morty. Dumb, idiot Morty. He held back a smile.  
But Who the hell was this kid all of a sudden? Because it sure as fuck wasn’t HIS Morty. What rare Morty would even have the tendency to act like this towards his Rick, let alone do this? Compliance and unquestioning obedience were one thing. That was typical of Mortys. But this was akin to unadulterated adoration. This was just bizarre. This kid was rubbing and cuddling up to him with everything he had. Like he loved him or some shit. Like Rick was his lover or savior.  
Yeah right. Okay. Rick scoffed internally.  
Despite his internal blusters and attempts to downplay it; to force himself to think of how fucking moronic this all was, and trying his best to despise all of what was happening; he was having a tough time holding back on returning all of the affections he was being given. He really cared about him. And he didn't understand exactly why he felt that way. The old bastard never cared about anyone like this before. Sure the sex was great but it shouldn't have made him feel this way.  
His hands itched to embrace him and just hold him there until he forgot everything that had happened over the last three days. The whole thing had been an ordeal.  
He tried not to think about how badly he had fucking missed the kid and his perfect, goofy smile.  
No, no. This is not how this would go down. 

Rick shook his head and finally managed to push Morty away from him. Freeing himself from the intoxicating contact.

Morty looked undeterred however and just dove in again, hugging him around the middle, and pressing his face into the spot just below his rib cage, rubbing. It felt good, really good. Too good.

Rick looked down at him and flushed. He was at a loss. What was he gonna do with this damn kid? He noticed with displeasure that his breathing was a bit quicker than before.

“Fucking christ, it was only THREE DAYS.”  
Rick ran a hand through disheveled his hair, feeling overwhelmed.

“Three-and-a-half!!”  
Came the muffled reply from just under his torso.

Rick put his fingertips to his temples for a moment and closed his eyes before rolling them as they opened once again. He strained to reach the gadget that had gotten discarded and ended up having to drag Morty with him halfway across the floor of the garage to get it.  
He ignored Morty’s fawning and turned it over in his hands critically, still trying not to notice his quickening heartrate.

“You short circuited it!”  
It was obvious Morty wasn’t really listening and he brought his hand back to cuff him in the back of the head like he'd used to do when Morty fucked something up. But instantly the rage drained from his face and he simply ended up flicking him, hard though, making him let out a squeak as he looked up.

Morty looked like he was back on this plain of existence again. The flick popping him out of his trance of enjoying Rick's Rickness.  
“I missed you.”  
He murmured. The words came out of his mouth so easily that it almost made Rick wince.

“Yeah, yeah.”  
Rick waved his hand dismissively, fighting the urge to tell him the same. Dying to return the sentiment. This was becoming problematic. So he went with the opposite of what he was feeling and tried to be callus.  
“Of course you did. I mean look at me. I’m hot, sm-smart as hell and I got connections, baby. How could you not want to be near me?”  
He couldn't help the flirty tone from invading his voice and cursed himself for it.

Morty laughed. He actually laughed. Not a chuckle, not a giggle, a full on guffaw.  
“Y-y-you should see the look on your faace!”

Rick blanched. What look? He had a look? He quickly tried to assemble his features into something impassive and impenetrable. But it was too late. It must have been clear as day how much he missed him. It had been written all over his face and try as me might he couldn’t take it back. Rick felt distressed.

“You missed me. Youuu missed me a lot.”  
Morty teased, poking him in the belly, and making him grunt. He knew he went too far but Rick was just so goddamned cute when he was trying not to be sentimental. He was SO sentimental these days.

“I don’t. Miss. Twerps.”  
He said through his teeth, blushing furiously.  
The old man felt giddy inside and he finally knew why but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Not even to himself.  
He felt like he was slowly losing his identity and that positively terrified him. At least he was losing who he thought he was. The person he thought he was supposed to be around Morty. Every Rick and Morty knew their place with one another and yet he was lost to as what his was anymore.  
In every other situation things were normal, it was so easy to fall back into old ways when they were in on a mission or an adventure. Rick was the irrefutable boss in that context. But when they were alone, when it was just the two of them; when Morty would look at him with that face. That fucking face that radiated compassion and acceptance for every fucked up thing Rick was. Something he never, could ever earn. It was just too much. He fell before it, unable to help himself, shattered by its’ intensity. The validation he wanted so badly was right there for the taking.

That was the face Morty was looking at him with right now.  
Him, Rick, the scourge of the universe. The murderer of civilizations and millions. Rick, who'd violated the intergalactic Geneva Convention so many times that he couldn't count them anymore. 

Rick had, had it. He had no right to such devotion. He shoved him away, tortured by the look of momentary pain this boy’s eyes. It passed quickly though and he felt like he could breathe again.  
He pulled his collar up, flustered, tried to readjust his coat and shirt. He wasn’t fast enough though because Morty spotted a long red mark creeping up his neck. It looked deep, ringed by scar tissue that looked shiny like a burn.

“Rick!”

Fuckin-A. Morty was on him again, trying to push him down and examine the scar. Fuck.

“What? WHAT NOW?! Ngh get-get off me god dammit!”  
Why did he care now? Why did he have to care so much?

“Yo-you’re hurt!”  
He squeaked. 

“It's fine.”  
He lied, trying his best to sound aloof.

“D-d-does it hurt?”  
Morty was looking up at him, all empathy and concern. Dammit.

Rick felt disgusting inside. He could never deserve such a look. 

“No.”  
Another lie.

The scar was a result of skin and tissue that had healed too quickly and too artificially. It was raw, even the air touching it made it sting and it itched like hell. If it weren't for his enhancements he would have died for sure. Bits of metal were imbedded somewhere in his shoulder. It ached sharply whenever he moved his arm and he'd have to fish them out later. Yeah. It did hurt.  
Normally he'd get the chance to heal himself and get rid of the scars before anyone saw.  
Believe it or not Rick had a bit of pride about the way he looked, even if in other ways he could have taken much better care of himself. He wasn't going to go around covered in scars and blemishes. Especially now that Morty was such a worry-wart when it came to him.

Morty searched his face critically. He could tell Rick was lying. The boy was getting very good at reading Rick's features for the subtlest of changes. Not to mention the fact that with each passing day Rick was becoming worse and worse at being able to hide his emotions. To Morty he was like an open book. And he used it to his advantage as long as he could, as long as he could before Rick realized there were chinks in his armor. Rick didn't like sympathy.  
The bags under Rick's eyes were more prominent these days.  
He was struggling to handle all the emotions that were scrambling his brain lately. Morty knew that.

It made it even more difficult because Rick's drinking habit had fallen off suddenly. He had drank, snorted, injected, and inhaled his feelings away for so many years that he'd forgotten what it was like to have them. But at this point he had such a reliable and effective emotional outlet through Morty that he didn't want to, didn't need to do that anymore. Morty was ecstatic, elated. Rick was becoming less of an emotional shut-in.  
It was wonderful until Morty determined that Rick couldn't handle them. They came on with such quickness and intensity that Rick had no way of coping.  
Rick didn't know how to deal with emotions and without drugs he couldn't turn them off anymore. It was like a faucet had been turned on full blast and then had the handle ripped off.  
Intense happiness and love, so strong he could barely comprehend them. But he felt all the other emotions along with them. Rage, hatred, fear, sorrow. Not just regret anymore. And especially rage.  
Rage and anger were some of the only things he had been able to concretely feel for a long, long time. But they were much stronger now. He was becoming unpredictable. Before, he would make decisions that seemed erratic and impulsive. But in reality they were calculated risks. He would carefully consider every facet of each decision he made and with his dulled emotions they were all left-brained-based verdicts. 

Now that he was feeling so much, so often, it was making him even more of a force to be reckoned with. His decisions were still calculated but they were mingled and obscured by impulsiveness that had nothing to do with mathematics.  
When he killed he killed for real. Even sometimes when it wasn't a necessity. He wanted to. It felt good to kill when he was angry. It wasn't just spite anymore. He wanted to cause pain and misery and not just because he demanded that others should feel what he did. He wanted others to suffer because he hated them. They deserved it. It was totally hypocritical but he just didn't give a shit. Fuck them.  
It made him dangerous.  
He wasn't 'haha that crazy old asshole! Who knows why he does what he does?' Rick anymore. He was destructive and more spiteful than ever. Especially when it came to anyone threatening or trying to hurt Morty. God help him if they succeeded. He would destroy anyone who accomplished that without a second thought.

Morty, who wore his heart on his sleeve was much better at handling his wayward emotions. They revealed themselves a lot but he knew how to let them out. In this way he was much more competent than Rick.  
He knew Rick's wrath was getting out of hand. But he certainly didn't know what to do about it.  
And even though Morty wasn't as accomplished at reading people as Rick, still recognized what his own emotions were. When he felt them, he could place what they were most of the time unlike Rick. Even if he didn't always know why he felt the way he did. 

They didn't confuse him and unsettle him they way they did to the old man.  
And he could express them without being destructive. Rick really couldn't and it probably scared him to death.  
His depression was doubtless intensified as well. 

Morty suddenly felt like his heart was in a vice. With his new and terrible impulsiveness, Rick might just pull the trigger one of these days. He had the idea that when Rick did binge drink, it was worse than ever. What if one of these times he just really couldn't take it? Morty dreaded the thought, he was so scared of even the possibility.  
But chiefly, Rick was being torn apart from inside.

Despite all of that, and unfortunately, even for his own sake; he knew Rick wouldn't, couldn't ever go back to how he was before. Unfeeling and empty except for regret, numbing himself from feeling anything. He would never ever give up how much love he could provide for Morty now. And in kind, how much joy Morty brought to his life; no matter what the consequences would be.

Morty's brow furrowed as he looked at Rick.  
“You're hurting.”  
He said simply.

“It's FINE.”  
Rick rolled his eyes.

“No... In here.”  
Morty pressed a finger to the left side of his chest.

For a split second the old man looked shaken to his core, tormented, before he scoffed, regaining a feigned air of indifference.  
“Pff definitely not. I don't subscribe to that pussy shit.”

Morty ignored him, his lips pursing in dismay .  
“Don't lie to me, Rick!”  
His voice was suddenly sharp.

Rick was stunned. He appeared wounded and clenched his jaw, staring back at the boy, eyes full of sorrow and regret. He was so spent. He couldn't keep up the charade any longer. The old man sagged under the emotional weight he was experiencing on a daily basis.

Morty was holding back tears. Pierced by such a look.  
“A-are you okay?..”

Rick swallowed hard and glanced away, he seemed more exhausted than Morty had ever seen him.

He knew he was out of control. His resolve and the conception of who he thought he was, what his purpose really was, were ebbing away. He was left confused, with a void where his heart should have been.  
After a bit, he considered Morty again. His expression was detached and when he spoke his voice cracked pitifully. He was pleading for help that he knew wouldn't come.

“I.. I don't know, kid..”

Morty was crying again silently, his lip trembling. He took Rick's face delicately his hands. He sniffled before speaking, his voice frantic.  
“H-h-how do I fix it? How can- how can I fix this?”

Rick put his hand over the smaller one and squeezed. He looked up at him, smiling bleakly.  
“You can't.”

Morty's heart felt like someone was trying to tear it out. And he was so afraid that bile rose in his gullet.  
“W-w-what do we do?..”

Rick looked down in thought before meeting his eyes once more, the light in them fading.  
“I-I don't know..”

Morty's face became a mask of despair and he sobbed before embracing Rick tightly, pressing his face into his chest, as if such a simple act could fix everything that was happening to the man.

Rick's mouth twitched and he closed his eyes.


End file.
